KNIGHT IN SHINING SKIN?
by astha22
Summary: Have you ever seen how, in EVERY fanfic, Rose and Scorpius turn out to be either friends or enemies at school? What if they are neither? Harry never talked to Cedric in four years, so isn't it possible that Rose and Scorpius never talked for six years?


_**KNIGHT IN SHINING…SKIN?**_

_**Author's Note: - Well, folks, I'm back in the game.**_

_**Have you ever seen how, in EVERY fanfic, Rose and Scorpius turn out to be either friends or enemies at school? What if they are neither? Harry never talked to Cedric in four years, so isn't it possible that Rose and Scorpius never talked for six years?**_

_**Especially since Ron forbid Rose.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: - I am not rich, do not have a fancy car, and am not the mastermind behind the world's most amazing series. In short, I am not J.K. Rowling, and Harry Potter is sadly not mine. :( Great, now I'm all depressed. I'll go wallow in self pity. You read. And review, that would help cheer me up!**_

_**P.S.: For those of you who don't know, I researched a bit…Severe lack of oxygen makes a person woozy (I know you already knew that. Read on), and a bit content, peaceful, and all the words I have used.**_

"Remind me once again why I'm diving into a lake filled with ice-cold water in the middle of a jungle out in nowhere," I cocked my head at James, the smug bastard, who grinned unabashedly.

"Cause I gave you a dare to jump in the lake. It's a game called truth and dare, you idiot. I'm sure you've heard of it, seeing as we have been playing it for the past hour. Come on, Rose. It's better than what you made me do," he grimaced. "At least you're not trying to kiss a random stranger. The water won't be _that_ cold, it's summer. As for the jungle, it was your Dad's idea of a camping site. Don't look at me."

I hate water. I know how to swim, of course, even _James_ isn't that silly. The fact is, my body doesn't like being submerged. I thrash about instinctively before my mind takes over.

"Did I mention I hate you?"

"Countless times, love. That's what makes you my favorite cousin."

"James?"

Both of us turned at the sound of Rhea's tentative voice. For future reference, Rhea is James' girlfriend. He's head over heels in love with her.

Don't tell him I said that.

Please.

"James? Are you there?"

"Coming…" James called back. He turned to me and hissed, "You're jumping in there, understand? I want to see your clothes sopping wet, okay?"

"Yeah," I muttered dejectedly, then grinned as he fled away. Honey, my cat, mewed from the bushes. "Silly bloke," I said to her. "Now I'm just gonna toss my clothes in and won't have to—_**EEP!**_"

Honey had stood up and rubbed herself lovingly against my legs.

Effectively tripping me in the process.

_SHIT!_

I shrieked when I hit the icy water.

I was proud of myself as I plunged deeper into the freezing black water. I hadn't had one moment of terror—just pure adrenaline. Really, the fall wasn't scary at all. Where was the challenge?

That was when the numbness caught me.

I'd been so preoccupied by the fall, by the obvious danger of braking my neck, that I hadn't thought of the cold water. I never dreamed that the true menace was lurking far below me, under the heaving surf.

It felt like the waves were sapping power from me, as if determined to drown me. I knew the right way to avoid it: swim. Keep swimming towards the shortest distance to the shore with rhythmic strokes. But the knowledge did me little good when I didn't know which way the shore was.

I couldn't even tell which way the surface was.

The angry water was black in every direction; there was no brightness to direct me upward. Gravity was all-powerful when it competed with the air, I could feel a downward pull, a sinking in a direction. Which, I couldn't really say.

Fuck. I _was _drowning.

I fought to keep my breath in, to keep my lips locked around my last store of oxygen.

I was going to drown. I was drowning.

The cold of the water was numbing my arms and legs. There was no franctic thrashing, more of just a dizziness now, a helpless spinning in the water.

But I forced my arms to continue reaching, my legs to kick harder, though every second I was facing a new direction. It couldn't be doing any good. What was the point?

I didn't want to fight anymore. And it wasn't the light-headedness, or the cold, or the failure of my arms as the muscles gave out in exhaustion, that made me content to stay where I was. I don't know what it was. I felt…oddly peaceful.

I thought briefly of the clichés, about how you were suppose to see your life flash before your eyes. I was so much luckier. Who wanted to see a rerun, anyway?

Why would I fight when I was so happy where I was? Even as my lungs burned for more air and my legs cramped in the icy cold, I was content. I'd forgotten what real happiness felt like.

Happiness. It made the whole dying thing pretty bearable.

I was shoved abruptly against something hard, a rock invisible in the gloom. It hit me solidly across the chest, slamming into me like a wall, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs, escaping in a thick cloud of silver bubbles. Water flooded down my throat, choking and burning. The brick wall seemed to be dragging me, pulling me away from the peace, deeper into the dark, to the ocean floor.

AT THAT MOMENT, MY HEAD BROKE THE SURFACE.

How disorienting. I'd been sure I was sinking.

Hands. Someone's soft hands. They beat against the center of my back sharply, rhythmically, pushing the water from my lungs. It gushed out in amazing volume, absolute torrents pouring from my mouth and nose. The salt burned and my lungs burned and my throat was too full of water to catch a breath and the slaps were hurting my back. Somehow I stayed in one place, though the waves still heaved around me. I couldn't see anything but water everywhere, reaching for my face.

"Breathe!" a voice, wild with anxiety, ordered.

I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath.

The black, icy water filled my chest, burning.

The hand smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs.

"Breathe, Weasley! C'mon!" the voice begged.

No one from the family. It wasn't anyone from the family.

Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light.

The hand struck me again.

The hand wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was trying to beat the water from my lungs. Warm… My head whirled, the black spots covered everything…

Was I dying again, then? I didn't like it—this wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the stranger faded into the black and became a quiet, even murmurthat sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears…

"Weasley?" The voice asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. "Rose, can you hear me?"

The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly, like they'd joined the rough water…

"How long has she been unconscious?" someone else asked.

MUM! The tense voice, kept under strict control, jarred me into a more focused awareness.

I realized that I was still. There was no tug of gravity on me—the heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bare arms.

"I don't know," The voice reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Hands—so warm—brushed wet hair from my cheeks. "A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the edge."

The quiet _whooshing _inside my ears was not the waves—it was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burned—the passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool.

But I was breathing.

And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse.

"She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning…"

"You think it's okay to move her?"

"She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?"

"I don't know."

They hesitated.

I tried to open my eyes. It took me a minute, but then I could see the dark, purple clouds, flinging the freezing rain down at me.

I had seen the face hovering in my vision before. He was a Ravenclaw in my year, the one Dad hadn't wanted me not to 'get too friendly with'.

Scorpius Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" I croaked.

A blonde head,wet and dripping, blocked out the sky. "Oh!" he gasped, relief washing over his features. His eyes were wet from the rain. "Are you okay?"

"M-m-my throat," I stuttered, my lips quivering from the cold.

"Let's get you out of here, then," Mum said. Her voice was relieved too, though I couldn't see her face.

Before Mum could out a feather-light charm on me and carry me to our Camping House, Malfoy slid his arms under me and lifted me without effort—like picking up an empty box. His chest was bare and warm; he hunched his shoulders to keep the rain off of me. My head lolled over his arm. I stared vacantly back toward the water, and shivered.

"You got her?" I heard Mum ask.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

Were we moving?

I saw a flash of something silver, then it disappeared. Malfoy was looking straight ahead. Had that been his eyes?

The silver streak made no sense, and I wondered how conscious I really was. My head swirled with the memory of the black, churning water—of being so lost that I couldn't find up or down. So lost… but somehow Malfoy had found me…

"How did you find me?" I rasped.

"I came to take a bath," he told me. He was half-jogging through the rain, up the beach toward the House. "We are camping here, me and Dad, and then I heard you scream…" He shuddered. "Why would you jump, Weasley? Couldn't you test the water first? You can't even swim!" Anger filled his tone as the relief faded.

"Sorry," I muttered. "It was stupid."

"Yeah, it was _really _stupid," he agreed, drops of rain shaking free of his hair as he nodded.

"Sure," I agreed. "Just so you know, I slipped." I sounded like a chain-smoker. I tried to clear my throat—and then winced; the throat-clearing felt like stabbing a knife down there.

His apology was cut short as there was an explosion of colors, shapes, voices, and people around me. Everyone spoke at once, shoving everyone else out of the way, touching me this way or that… checking my pulse, screaming at someone—James, I think—and profusely thanking Malfoy.

Reader, meet my family. Yes, that entire rowdy crowd is my family. And shut you mouth. Your jaw's hanging open.

I was wrapped up in blankets, and herbal tea (which I absolutely hate) was thrust in my hands a couple million times. By the time I got around to thanking Malfoy, he was gone.

We would be starting seventh year soon.

I am looking forward to meet the very interesting man I met today named Scorpius Malfoy.

_**Author's Note: - I copied heavily from a non-HP cannon. Care to guess which one?**_


End file.
